


take my hand, wreck my plans

by effing-numpties (avenging_cap)



Series: evermore songfics [2]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Based on a Taylor Swift Song, Fluff, M/M, Meeting the Family, Post Wayward Son, Song: willow (Taylor Swift), Songfic, Sunsets, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch in Love, i am very in love with baz being in love, simon loves driving the car, the way that's a tag, this is very self indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-14 19:54:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28800891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avenging_cap/pseuds/effing-numpties
Summary: “You know that my train could take you homeAnywhere else is hollow”-willow, taylor swiftBaz and Simon are on a drive to Pitch Manor, and Baz reminisces about the growth of their relationship.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: evermore songfics [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2103921
Comments: 29
Kudos: 74





	take my hand, wreck my plans

**Author's Note:**

> This is my emotional support Baz is super in love with Simon fic your honor!!
> 
> Sorry to give you another 1000 words of Baz just being sappy but it is what it is.
> 
> Here's track 1, [willow](https://open.spotify.com/track/2gVhfX2Gy1T9kDuS9azrF7?si=RlWyoOO5StGSZMm9-AL55g)

Sometimes dating Simon Snow is like staring straight into the sun. He still glows, even though he isn’t the nuclear reactor he once was.

I chance a look at him now, his bronze hair glinting in the late afternoon sun. He’s _driving_ , and part of me wishes I never taught him how to, because it’s all he ever wants to do.

When he changes gear, it’s uncharacteristically graceful, and he rests a hand on my leg for a moment.

There it is again, that _glow_ , almost like it’s the Simon from Before. Back when life was a willow bending to his wind, when he could get anything he wanted if he pushed hard enough. Now he’s learning that a certain amount of gentleness can be necessary, especially when dealing with himself. He’s doing surprisingly well.

 _I’m_ doing surprisingly well. I feel a swell of pride as we tear through the countryside. We’ve come a long way, really. I squeeze Snow’s hand before he takes it back to shift gears again. I love that we can do this—hold hands, steal kisses, have comfortable silence. I love _him_. I’d be disgusted with myself if I weren’t high on affection.

I complained at first about the playlist Snow chose for the ride, but now that I’m watching the landscape go by along to it, I can almost forgive the shitty eighties music he’s chosen. It works.

He’s humming along, tapping his hands on the wheel absentmindedly. It takes me right back to the image of his fingers tapping on my thigh, slivers of golden hour sun illuminating his bare chest.

“I should get home,” he said.

That was back when he was still bunking with Bunce, and she was expecting him home for dinner. Or something. I hadn’t exactly been listening all too intently. (He’s quite distracting.)

Snow moved to get out of bed, but I rolled on top of him, stopping him in his tracks.

“I’ve got to get home,” he said, his tone playful.

I wanted to say something stupid and sickly sweet, like _“you know that my train could take you home,”_ but it seemed like too much. Things were delicate— _we_ were delicate.

“I can make dinner, you know,” I said.

He laughed out loud. “That’s debatable.”

“I can _order_ dinner,” I corrected.

So he stayed. And he kept staying.

Before I knew it, my days and nights were dominated by blue eyes and bronze curls. (Not that they weren’t before, but this time he was _actually_ there.) Nights where he showed me the places where the world gave him scars, and days where I burnt toast and we laughed until our cheeks hurt.

And now I’m taking him home properly for the first time. We’re doing the big dinner with the family where Fiona will certainly stare him down like he’s still a threat, and Mordelia might try to feed him a bug.

I roll down the window and let the cool air hit my face. The sun is just starting to set, its absence leaving a chill in the air. The rays are pure gold, making everything take on a luminance that was missing just moments ago.

“Why’re you smiling like that?” Snow asks, glancing over at me.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I definitely do. My cheeks are straining from holding the expression in place for so long. I may be rough on the surface, but Snow’s always been able to cut through like a knife.

“You know, I saw a sign for a lookout up ahead. Do you want to go, just for a few minutes?” He’s got his mischievous voice on.

We’ll almost certainly be late, but the truth is, I’d follow Simon anywhere. He might not be able to bend the willow of life to his wind anymore, but he still has that effect on me.

I look at him, so much fondness threatening to burst out all at once. My heart is practically begging for him to take my hand and wreck my plans.

“You have no respect for arriving on time,” I scoff.

“And you have no respect for fun!” He pulls off at the lookout, laughing.

We get out of the car just as the sun starts to dip below the horizon. The field below us is lit up in pinks and purples. The sky looks like one of Snow’s oil paintings (art is a skill he’s picked up recently, and it never fails to make me swoon).

Snow immediately heads for the bench a few yards away, but I stay behind. The sky’s lighting him up in its pastels, his curls reminiscent of a halo atop his head. It’s almost as if he’s a mythical thing, even though I’ve spelled his wings away.

He throws a grin at me over his shoulder as if to say, _do you see this?_ In his excitement, he trips a little over an exposed root, and a laugh escapes me. _That’s my man._

I think this could be _it,_ all I need for the rest of my life: A clumsy winged boyfriend with a driving obsession. As I stare out at the majesty of the scene before us, I realize that this could very well be the place where I pop the question someday.

I’m so ridiculously in love with him. I used to find it embarrassing, and sometimes, I still do. I can’t ever find the words to _really_ tell him all these things, which means some of my dignity is still intact (thank magic). In this moment, though, I wish I had the words.

I jog up to him, my knuckles brushing against his as I lean into him. He presses his face to mine, heat radiating from him even as the evening chill fills the air. We settle in on the bench and watch the sun sink in silence. I’d be lying if I said we didn’t take the opportunity to sneak in some slow, longing kisses in the near darkness.

Once the sun is well and truly gone, we head back to the car. Snow drives as though he hasn’t a care in the world and practically puts the car in park at stop signs to kiss me. By the time we arrive at our destination, we’re more than fashionably late, though I can’t find it in me to care.

**Author's Note:**

> YOU KNOW THAT MY TRAIN COULD TAKE U HOME, ANYWHERE ELSE IS HOLLOW!!!!!!
> 
> Find me on [tumblr.](https://effing-numpties.tumblr.com)


End file.
